Tag Archives: travel

And So It Goes

Today is Tuesday, November 11, 2025, Veterans Day 2025. I will post a comparison between this so-called president and what a former president did on this sacred holiday, but now, I’ll just state how much of a hoot Nashville was over the last four days. Elliot and I chose this destination for my upcoming birthday on Saturday, November 8, and we flew out to Nashville last Thursday, November 6. We had one friend with us, “Harvey,” who met us Thursday night at our hotel near Vanderbilt University.

The four days were marked by unseasonably warm weather for the first three days until an arctic blast moved in on Sunday and held its grip on the city until the day we left, which was Monday morning. Not surprisingly, when we got back to the Big Apple, a new moniker for our city could be the “Frigid Apple,” since the weather from Nashville accompanied us back to the Northeast. The temperature out there now is only 38 degrees, but it feels like 23 degrees, according to my weather app. Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to be a balmy 48 degrees.

The time spent in Nashville went very quickly. The first day was spent basically flying to the Music Capital of the country. We got to the hotel, the Hyatt House at Vanderbilt, after 3 or so – I can’t recall exactly the time – but we still had to wait for my friend Harvey to arrive. He had a later flight out of Newark and wasn’t slated to arrive before 6. So I had the energy to check in and do some walking around the neighborhood. I learned that there was a Vanderbilt Bookstore, so I spent most of the afternoon looking for it. I made my way onto the campus, falsely believing it was on campus, and finally realized it was on West End Avenue instead. There I spent a while scouring the shelves and eventually decided to buy a remainder book called A Life of My Own, by Claire Tomalin. I really didn’t know her at all; she has written biographies of great authors like Charles Dickens, Samuel Pepys, and Thomas Hardy. This was a memoir of her own life growing up in London throughout the mid-20th century. Hell, it was only $5.00, reduced from $17. I thought it was a great bargain. And I’m 100 pages into it already.

When Harvey arrived, it was late already – and dark. So we decided to go not that far from the hotel. We settled on a Tex-Mex place called Little Rey, which was just a block away from the hotel. It wasn’t a white-tablecloth dining experience, to say the least. But it would do since we wanted something fast and something quick. At least I didn’t have indigestion from what I ate.

The next day we met for breakfast in the hotel dining room around 8:30 or so. This was not a sleeping holiday, by no means. I would have to wait until getting home to do that. Every day I had to set my phone alarm. After breakfast, we set out to walk to downtown Nashville, which was about a mile or so away. The weather was gorgeous that day, as I previously wrote. So we walked then and discovered the vertical magnificence of the city. There were so many tall towers everywhere as we made our way to the main downtown hub that included many of those well-known music venues. Our goal was to go to the Nashville Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, located on Rep. John Lewis Way South. We bought tickets there instead of buying them online. We spent, maybe, about an hour or so on just one floor before breaking up to go to lunch.

We had lunch at the very popular chicken joint called Hattie B’s in town, where we had to wait about a half hour on line to get in. The place is famous for its Nashville-style hot chicken and its wide range of heat levels like “mild,” “medium,” and “hot.” Other levels include “damn hot” and “shut the cluck up!” Little old nonspice me asked for the mildest temperature and no spice on the chicken. We chipped in for sharing their fired pickles, which I couldn’t ingest too much of. The two sides I ordered were the baked beans and the creamy coleslaw. Both were quite good.

After lunch, the two guys wandered off together, while I made my way back to the museum. You see, if you keep your ticket, you can use it anytime the day you purchase it. I wanted to see at least one more floor before calling it quits. My friend in Cherry Hill would be proud of me since I practically closed the museum by leaving around 5, closing time. At that time, it was raining outside, and I decided to take an Uber back to the hotel.

Elliot had planned a very nice prebirthday dinner for the three of us at this place called Husk, but the only time he could get for Friday night was 7:45 p.m. Unfortunately, Harvey decided to bow out since the time didn’t square with his usual schedule of having his bigger meal during the afternoon, not much later. Thus the restaurant saw only the two of us in their very cosy interior. Their social media page says it is “nestled in the charming quiet oasis of the Rutledge Hill neighborhood near downtown. Husk Nashville is housed in a refurbished 1880s historic home that was once the residence of a 19th-century Nashville mayor.” It certainly did look like it was a private residence when we walked in and were led to a round table near a fireplace.

When we saw the skimpy menu, we decided to order what we thought would be tantalizing: Alabama shrimp as an appetizer and share a 10-ounce strip steak. We also shared the buttermilk cheddar biscuits. For dessert, we ordered the noble spring chèvre mousse. Everything was quite delicious.

The next day, Saturday, we all met for breakfast once more. That day, we walked back into downtown where we accidentally saw a sign for the Pancake Pantry which is near the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum. It is also near the Johnny Cash Museum. Originally, we were going to this most popular eatery on Sunday, but since we saw the line for it on Saturday, I decided to wait with everyone else. This spontaneity on my part stirred Harvey to grouse slightly over my rash decision to get on line, but I persevered and stood my ground. Here Harvey left the line to get coffee up the block at The Diner. Harvey actually left us to wait on line to get to the Bridgestone Arena where he was going to attend a hockey game.

After waiting on line for about 20 minutes or so and speaking to some visitors to the city in front of us, Elliot and I were finally ushered to an outside table. I was so excited to order their signature fare: pancakes. And when I finally got my wish to ingest these fluffy pancakes, I was a little disappointed. Comparing these pancakes to those made at the Jax Inn Diner in Jackson Heights, I can quickly say the latter are much better. Sorry, Pancake Pantry, that’s how I feel.

Next I made my way up the block to the Johnny Cash Museum which I saw as much as I could in just two hours or more. I knew very little of the Man in Black, but this museum had so much memorabilia from his life which was just so informative as it provided so many details about his life and career. I strongly recommend going to this museum for anyone interested in Cash’s life.

The highlight of the trip occurred on my birthday when Elliot and I went to the Grand Ole Opry at 5:30 p.m. There were eight acts scheduled to perform that night, and we saw only seven since Elliot preferred to leave before the last act got on stage. None of the names scheduled to perform that night were known to me. There were square dancers on the bill and fiddle champions as well. The other six acts were typical country music performers like “Whispering” Bill Anderson who admitted that he began his career as early as 1964, and he looked it.

This new hall is located way out of town, which necessitated us taking an Uber for more than 20 minutes and going on the highway. The old venue was in Ryman Auditorium which was much closer downtown. But no more! This new glitzier arena has so much around it like other stores and restaurants. Sadly, we had no time to explore the area since we got to the music hall closer to 7. Also, we had no time to have dinner that evening, so I just nibbled on a bag of popcorn during the 20-minute intermission.

Our last full day, Sunday, was spent taking the Nashville Old Town Trolley tour which takes you to 13 stops along the way. We had some difficulty in finding the stop closer to our hotel, but we finally managed to find it after having breakfast somewhere else this time. We had breakfast at some hotel that featured a restaurant inside. I do recall that our waiter was a very nice-looking young man who engaged me in conversation about serial killers.

That night, Elliot and I separated from Harvey again to have spare ribs at a local eatery called Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint, located on Elliston Place, which was not far from the hotel. But Elliot insisted we take an Uber again, so I called for one. The reason was that it was now late, dark, and cold. The place was very informal; it had the same setup as at Hattie B’s, where you walked up to a counter and put in your order. You were given a number on a stick and you left it at your table. I got a half rack of ribs and couldn’t finish the whole thing.

Well, that’s it for our Nashville trip. The next morning we woke up at 6:30, met Harvey for breakfast around 7:30, and said goodbye to him after the meal. We were leaving around 8:15, and he had to stay quite late for a much later flight. I later learned today that Harvey’s flight was delayed for hours because of the government shutdown and he didn’t get into his house until around 2 a.m. Sheesh!

Now back to the buffoon attending the annual wreath-laying ceremony at Arlington National Cemetery in honor of the fallen soldiers throughout the wars. An online Mirror article by Jack Hobbs entitled “Five topics Trump discussed in Veterans Day speech – from Joe Biden to B-2 bombers” discusses the true insanity behind Drumpf’s speech which is quite embarrassing as usual. Unable to even give a reasoned, typical speech about how this holiday is significant for all Americans, the idiot in chief veered away from the general topic and started discussing tangential topics that had no relevance to the event at hand. He discussed his predecessor Joe Biden, something about the B-2 bomber, and the renaming of the Department of Defense to War. In all, the madman’s speech lasted around 20 minutes, and I heard none of it on mainstream media.

It appeared that Drumpf veered off topic in the first three minutes of his speech. He spent much of his opening remarks bizarrely thanking members of his Cabinet, that one which is loaded with idiots like him. He also acknowledged pedophile Johnson who, according to him, “will go down as a great man someday.” Hmm, as a fascist maybe and Trump toady, but not a great man, in my opinion. The idiot in charge also called out Office of Management and Budget Director Russ Vought, the real author of the controversial Project 2025 plan. He kept on heaping praise on this clown for “cutting, cutting, and cutting.”

The asshole even proposed changing the name of Veterans Day to “Victory” Day which will be not loved by veterans anywhere. Drumpf also touted America’a current military strength. He praised “Beautiful B-2 bombers. Aren’t they beautiful now?” Any of this gobbledegook if mentioned by a Democratic president like Joe Biden would be denounced by everyone in the media, but since this is Donald J. Chump, we hear practically nothing.

In the meantime, as this sitting president was giving a cringeworthy speech on the occasion, a real president like former President Barack Obama surprised an entire planeload of veterans who were flying to Washington, D.C., to participate in Veterans Day marches today by offering heartfelt thanks for their contribution to American freedom and shaking each and every veteran’s hand as they deplaned. Could you see fat Dump doing the same? Of course not! He couldn’t shake any person’s hand since he’s such a germaphobe!

Have a great Wednesday.

And so it went!

Here are some pics from our Nashville trip! Hope you enjoy them. I’ll include just some today; I’ll print more tomorrow.

Here is downtown Nashville as we walked to it from our hotel.

The front of the Johnny Cash Museum that I visited on Saturday.

Here is a discography of the Man in Black.

This whole wall contained all of Cash’s list of LPs which was huge!

This is Tootsie’s world-famous lounge. I have to admit that both Elliot and Harvey found the music blaring out of these places so deafening that they didn’t even set foot in one of these venues. And I didn’t either!

These are boots and a silk shirt that Cash wore on occasion.

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, November 2, 2025, the end of Daylight Saving Time. I always rage against this worthless practice that we engage in year in and year out without any attempt to correct it. Which would mean that this do-nothing Congress would finally put an end to changing the clock and letting nature do its part in giving us natural daylight.

The literature on this phenomenon always points to its negative health impacts, such as increased risks of stroke and obesity from disrupted circadian rhythms. Proponents of permanent standard time argue it aligns better with human biology. Permanent standard time could reduce health risks associated with time changes. Permanent daylight saving time could result in more evening sunlight in the winter months and may provide a benefit in terms of public safety, as studies show there are fewer fatal car accidents with more daylight in the evening. It appears that many researchers agree that the current system of changing clocks twice a year is the worst option from a health perspective, regardless of whether permanent standard or daylight time is chosen. As for this ever happening, don’t expect it to take shape during this terrible administration that cannot even pay federal workers now during a month-long government shutdown, but an attempt to make daylight saving time permanent did pass the Senate in 2022, but did not advance in the House of Representatives. Public opinion polls show that a majority of Americans favor eliminating the time change, though support for permanent standard time versus permanent daylight saving time is more divided. That is why I begrudgingly move the clocks back now and ahead an hour in March.

Yesterday Elliot and I spent a lovely evening in Jersey City at Temple Beth-El attending a gala for the dedication of a new social hall, funded in part by Elliot’s late aunt’s legacy. We used mass transit, taking the F to 34th Street where we transferred to the PATH and took the train to Journal Square. From there, we took a taxi to the synagogue on John F. Kennedy Boulevard. We were directed to take the stairs downstairs and we descended the steps to the designated area. Outside there was a table set up with the names of the invited guests and a wall with plaques designating the donors who generously donated to the renovation of the social hall. Elliot’s aunt’s name was etched on a plaque honoring her foundation. Then we walked into the dark interior of the room that was set up for dinner and dancing. We looked around for a table and we found one in the back. We then took some hors d’oeuvres that were proffered to us by a number of servers. The rabbi of the synagogue met us and thanked Elliot for his backing.

It was at this event that I shook the hand of Jim McGreevey who is now running for mayor of Jersey Center. You remember who Jim McGreevey is? He was the former governor of New Jersey in 2001 and was forced to resign the position after it was revealed that he engaged in an extramarital relationship with a man. There was that infamous press conference where he appeared with his wife, Dina Matos, in which he stated he was a gay man and that he was resigning his office. A divorce was granted the couple in 2008.

So it was this Jim McGreevey whose hand I shook. He and another candidate for mayor were at this event, and the other one is someone I wouldn’t know if I fell over him. The other candidate’s name is William O’Dea. Anyway, the brief engagement I had with McGreevey was quite funny. He doesn’t know me from Adam, as they say, but when he took my hand, he uttered that he thought he knew me from somewhere. I said that I’ve never met him before; I’m not even a New Jersey resident, I told him. That’s when he turned to talking to someone else who was at least a New Jersey voter. That was the extent of my brief conversation with him.

Here we also met another gay couple who are members of the shul. In fact, as soon as we entered the room, it was “James” who took my hand and talked very amicably throughout the evening. I didn’t even know who he was at first. And I couldn’t understand why he seemed so touchy-feely with me. The longer the evening progressed, it became clear. He started talking of his husband, “Morris,” who was at the event and where they enjoy traveling to. It was practically inevitable that we would exchange telephone numbers and emails. With the end of the gala looming, I finally met “Morris.” I didn’t have time to speak to him, as Elliot yearned to leave; it was a little after 10.

Unfortunately, the commute home took forever. We got into an Uber outside the synagogue and then took the train back to 33rd Street, where we transferred to the F. However, the ride to 33rd Street on the PATH took forever. The only distraction we had on this interminable ride back to New York was seeing the hordes of young people boarding the train in Halloween costumes. Both girls and men were decked out in weird and colorful getups. Even though it was November 1, a day after Halloween. People were still going to parties, it seemed, as many got off at Christopher Street.

We got home, finally, a little after 12. Much later than I thought, but heck, it was fun looking at the Halloween revelers. I even took a respite from reading Surviving Autocracy, by Masha Gessen, who writes incisively about the first Dump term. She uses the term “kakistocracy” to describe the kind of government we had during Dump’s first term, and here we are all over again during his second, worse term. I’ve even went back to rereading It Can’t Happen Here, by Sinclair Lewis, inspired by this Orange Turd’s second term. This novel is about fascism coming to America in 1935. Well, maybe it didn’t way back then, but it sure emerged in 2025.

Anyway, it’s getting late here.

It’s time to wish everyone a good week.

And so it went!

I forgot to mention that I baked today: an apple walnut cake. Here it is!

And So It Goes

Today is Saturday, October 18, dubbed “No Kings” Day at 2,500 events throughout the nation in response to the authoritarian bent of this mad president. I proudly participated in this event here in New York at 47th Street and 7th Avenue, where a humongous crowd inched its way down toward 14th Street where it just broke apart. This was a 33-block walk that seemed to take forever. There had to be thousands and thousands of energized marchers besides myself on line; at one point, I even thought I spied Broadway diva Patti LuPone standing right behind me with her own sign declaring Trump has to go. Of course, I didn’t approach her since I’m sure she didn’t want to be recognized and fawned over during this protest. So I just looked the other way and tried not to focus on staring at her as I stood for almost 90 minutes before beginning the march.

This time I convinced a friend to accompany me, “Jerry,” whom I met by the subway stop in Forest Hills at 10. I set my phone alarm for 8:30 and had a little breakfast before rushing out at 9:50. We then waited for the F train and boarded it, heading toward 47th-50th Street.

I had a large shopping bag that contained my large anti-Dump sign, plus other signs for Jerry who failed to bring his own placards. We headed for 47th Street and waded into the huge crowd that gathered to show their disgust with this administration. As we waited to get the go-ahead to start walking, that’s when I believed I saw Ms. LuPone in back of me.

In an online article for AlterNet entitled “Trump opponents have a plan for exposing his ‘power’ as ‘fragile’ – not ‘unstoppable,'” by Alex Henderson, MSNBC’s Antonia Hylton told host Ali Velshi that the protest outside was turning out to be much larger than previously thought, corroborating my personal suspicions about the true size of the crowd. Hylton reported, “Originally, they thought about 200,000 people.” She added, “But right now, best guesses are that they far exceeded that.” To confirm this, remember that on June 14th, I had to wait a full half-hour before being able to start walking toward the designated end point, whereas today, I had to wait almost 90 minutes before being able to start marching. To me, this signifies that the protest crowd had to exceed 200,000 disgruntled marchers.

In an op-ed published by MSNBC’s website that day, Ezra Klein and Leah Greenberg (two cofounders of the progressive group Indivisible), emphasize that the size of the protests is important – as it sends a clear message that Chump’s power is “fragile” rather than “unstoppable.”

Klein and Greenberg argue, “Right now, this regime is invading and occupying cities across the country. Their masked officers are terrorizing American communities and immigrant families. They’re attacking the final provisions of the Voting Rights Act. And the White House is using the powers of the executive branch to go after political opponents of all stripes, from New York Attorney General Letitia James to comedians to peaceful protesters. Each of these moments might seem isolated, but together, they form a single authoritarian project: silence dissent, project strength and convince the rest of us there’s nothing we can do to stop it”

Klein and Greenberg argue that Dump needs us to believe he’s unstoppable, “that his grip is permanent, that resistance is futile.” They add, “And if we believe him, it just might work. Here’s the truth: It’s all a lie.”

Therefore, I will provide some pics of the protest that I took as I marched proudly today. Look at this acronym made of Dump’s name from one protester: “T (traitor), R (rapist), U (ugly), M (mendacious) and P (pedophile).” Seems to fit, don’t you think?

I just got the figures then for this huge protest: “More than 350,000 people across New York City protested on Saturday,” organizers said. This quote is from an article covering the nationwide demonstrations in Independent. Now the figure for the entire country is pegged at “nearly 7 million,” not 10 million.

As we marched, I forgot to say that we chanted, “Hey hey! Ho ho! Donald Trump has got to go!” and “What does democracy look like?” The answer, “This is what democracy looks like!” Also, in Washington, D.C. alone, more than 200,000 demonstrators turned up. In Chicago, a massive crowd of 100,000 showed up to register their disgust with Dump and his craven enablers. Even actor John Cusack was interviewed on Chicago streets, where he had a direct message to this monarchical president: “No, you can’t put troops on our streets. You can’t create enough chaos to invoke the Insurrection Act so you can stay in power. We all know what your plan is. He also added this wish for the administration, “Go to hell!”

The city of Atlanta had 35,000 protesters in which Georgia Democratic Senator Raphael Warnock told the rally crowd that Americans should be “concerned” about Dump’s recent cringeworthy remarks to the military. This is where he talked about handling “the enemy from within,” code word for Americans citizens who disagree with the asshole’s policies and that “we have to handle it before it gets out of control.” Chump had the audacity to tell the commanders in the room that some of them would be involved in using U.S. cities run by Democrats as “training grounds” for troops. Can you believe this fucker saying something as batshit crazy as this to a roomful of generals and top military brass?

Have a good Sunday!

And so it went!

Two great signs showing some creativity here.

Here is the convicted felon without makeup. Truly ugly!

Here is the crowd at the New York protest!

Here is another creative sign.

Standing around.

More protesters marching down 47th Street.

Another creative sign declaring the enemy within is really made up of Dump’s own cabinet: creepy Stephen Miller, Kristi Noem, and Russell Vought, the horrible architect of Project 2025 and is now the Director of the United States Office of Management and Budget.

A very clear declaring “No kings” here!

I really like the “release the Trumpstein Files” sign, where Drumpf’s and Epstein’s faces merge into one.

This pic is probably at the beginning of the march. We’re still milling around here.

This is the sign that I carried for 3 hours.

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, October 2, 2025. I’ve survived another 25-hour fast with the ending of Yom Kippur tonight at 7:21 p.m. I’m happy to report that I had no twinges of hunger that entire time, even though I did look longingly in pizza parlors and the like as I walked through the neighborhood in the afternoon.

Yesterday Elliot and I attended Kol Nidre services at Temple Beth-El in Jersey City for the first time. This synagogue was the shul where Elliot’s deceased Aunt Esther attended for many years and one in which Elliot and his coexecutor of Esther’s estate have donated thousands of dollars to the building over the years. Thus Elliot preferred to attend services there last night instead of having me go to 34th Street to attend services at the Jacob Javits Center at the gay synagogue by myself, which is what I usually do. This time I had little interest in traveling once again on the subway since our recently deceased friend “Larry” attended services there with his spouse, “Jeff.” I can wait a year – or whatever.

So we left at around 3:30 to take the F train to 34th Street where we hopped on a PATH train to Grove Street, where we had dinner at Luna. We made very good time without driving there this time. I think we were in New Jersey in little over an hour.

The restaurant was quite empty when we walked in since it wasn’t even 5 yet. Services began at 6:30 and we had over an hour to eat. Since this amounted to my last meal before fasting, I pulled no stops. I had meatballs as an appetizer and pesto gnocchi as my entree. We then had creme brûlée and coffee for dessert. I thus began my fast around 6 p.m.

I then called for an Uber to take us to the synagogue on John F. Kennedy Boulevard. We got caught in rush hour traffic and just got to the synagogue around 6:30. We couldn’t help but notice the police cruiser standing outside as a form of law enforcement deterrence.

The synagogue looked old to me and not so well lit. There certainly weren’t thousands of worshippers here as you would see at the Javits Center, that’s for sure. However, the setting and atmosphere was certainly more intimate and you didn’t have good-looking young men with yarmulkes as a distraction during the service here. There were people of all ages sitting in the pews here.

Since this is a reform synagogue, there was more reading in English, which is not what I was accustomed to growing up. It was very easy for me to follow the prayers since the prayer book did not have so much Hebrew on the page.

The rabbi’s sermon was delivered with real folksy charm. She relayed her experiences over the summer on an Alaskan cruise and how she decided to take a Bible class being offered instead of the usual chazerai (game shows, bingo, art auctions, etc.) She recounted how many of the people doing this were Catholics and she was reluctant at first to say that not only was she Jewish, she was also a female spiritual leader. She went on for a considerable time tying this willingness to do something different into a treatise on being tolerant of others with different opinions than yourself. In this age of division, this is what we need more – a willingness to come out of our entrenched bubbles and get to see how the other side lives. Her message was certainly very apt for this time in history.

By 9:30, the service was finally over. Elliot decided to go up to the bimah and say hi to the rabbi. At first, she didn’t recognize him since they have only communicated generally by email. When she realized who he was, her expression brightened immediately and she kissed and hugged him. I sheepishly went up to greet her and she did the same with me.

Now it was time to call on Uber again to take us to the Journal Square PATH station. The wait didn’t take long; a driver pulled up on Montgomery Street where we were standing within minutes.

We had to wait awhile for a PATH train, but we didn’t have to wait for an F when we got to the 34th Street station. We got home in about an hour. Now it was fasting time for me until the next day.

So today, I took an extensive walk in the neighborhood. I also sat in MacDonald Park to read my new book, Lake Success, by Gary Shteyngart. I picked up this book only about a day or two ago and I’m about 200 pages in it already. It was written years ago during the reign of Dump I – about 2016. It tells the uproarious story of one Barry Cohen, rich, Jewish, living near the Flatiron Building, in a million-dollar pad who flees New York City and his Indian wife, Seema, and his seriously autistic three-year-old child, Shiva, by taking a Greyhound Bus across the country meeting all sorts of people on the road. The book is very funny and well grounded in the American zeitgeist, I believe.

Anyway, I cannot delve into MAGA World today since I took a 24-hour breather from it. Tomorrow is a different story.

Hope everyone’s fast was as trouble free and easy as mine.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, September 28, 2025. Well, today Elliot and I successfully went to West Babylon, Long Island, to plant our feet at the New Montefiore Cemetery and Wellwood Cemetery in order to pay our respects to our two dear friends interred in both. Thus we have fulfilled the mitzvah of visiting a cemetery before the conclusion of the High Holy Days. Not that we ever intended to; it was just that our friend “Gene” desired to do it this weekend and we said we’d drive out there to meet him at one since we couldn’t find the grave of our recently departed friend, “Mark,” who died in 2023 the last time we ventured out there which was over a year ago.

Before we left the borough at about 12:45, I walked over to Austin Street to take a quick look at the fair taking place there. My intention was to find the booth where newly formed Indivisible of Forest Hills was located since our friend, “Patricia,” sent me an email indicating that they would be there today. I waded through the food booths and commercial stalls lining both sides of the street. We woke up rather late, so I didn’t go out until close to 11. I just had time to have coffee and a croissant at La Boulangerie.

By golly, I did find the culprit, the newly formed anti-Dump organization that now has a chapter in Forest Hills. I began conversing with some members there; I had a particularly interesting conversation with “Beatrice,” who was sitting by the main table. At one point, she claimed that Kamala Harris did win the 2024 election, but that she and the party consciously decided not to contest the results because they feared a MAGA war if they had. Of course, there is no proof of this, I know, and I’m just spreading what seems to be a conspiracy theory like the nuts on the right. But I like to believe this is the truth. Otherwise, we have to accept that there are many morons living in this country.

There was a sign-up sheet, so I left my name, email, and cell phone number on it. I can’t predict if they will call me at any time, but I can hope. Also, I was given a flyer about the October 18th demonstration right here in Forest Hills, at McDonald Park. I indicated I was partial to attending the rally in Manhattan; their protest is scheduled at 10 through 12 that day. The one in the city starts at 11 and runs through 1. Now you know why I prefer to take the subway down to Father Duffy Square, at 47th Street and Broadway, a new location for these demonstrations. They’ve usually been held outside the 42nd Street Library at Bryant Park.

We make good time driving out to West Babylon: we arrive around 1:40. We head for the cemetery office where we are supposed to meet up with Gene and see he’s not there. I enter the office and ask where his husband is located and the staff person hands me a map which I can never read. I am geographically compromised. I can’t distinguish west from east, north from south.

We finally get in contact with Gene who informs us he is in the other cemetery – Wellwood Cemetery which is down the block. The cemetery we were in did not have “Keith,” his husband; it only had our friend “Mark” interred here. Already very confusing!

Therefore, we leave this cemetery to find the other one and the facility office, which is quite difficult to find as well. When we ultimately find the office to the second cemetery, we look for our friend who is not there either. What to do? Finally, he does call us and tells us he’s by the grave of his husband where he has been trying to find his husband’s parents for over a half-hour. He took his electric shears with him to prune the top of the shrubbery growing by the gravestone. We exit the office area and drive down various streets and blocks when we finally catch up with Gene’s electric blue Civic.

Whooo! At least we have met up with Gene. Even if we don’t find anybody today, we still have live Gene with us. When we see Gene, he’s sweating and complaining about not being able to find Keith’s parents – until now. We proceed to accompany Gene to two gravestones marking Keith’s parents’ remains and we wait until he cuts the hedges.

We then pile back into two cars and follow Gene to Keith’s burial spot. It’s a long, winding path to where Keith is buried, but we find him and we exit our cars, to say the Kaddish (prayer for the dead) at Keith’s elaborate gravestone. Gene sheds a tear for his departed husband, who died on December 24, 2018. Elliot whispers into the air, “I miss you, Keith!” We put stones on top of Keith’s headstone and then leave.

We then follow Gene back into the first cemetery where Mark is buried and look for his place of rest. This we find somewhat easier, but I know if I were here alone with Elliot, it would have turned into a nightmare of circuitous turns and wasted gas.

Voila! We find Mark’s tablet, not a tombstone, so we conjecture that’s why we might have missed him the first time we came out to pay our respects. We recite Kaddish again and say how much we miss him too.

With our task done, we pile back into both cars and head for West Babylon to a restaurant called Brixton, located on Deer Park Avenue. This time I drive since Elliot intends to call his daughter back at 3.

I plug the restaurant’s address into Waze and start exiting the cemetery. I maintain a measured distance so as to not lose Gene who is a good distance in back of me. In less than 20 minutes, we head for this neighborhood eatery and start looking for parking spots. Gene parks a little ahead of us.

We get out of our cars and look for Brixton, which I find with my eagle eyes across the street. We cross the street and go in the side entrance and ask to sit down. We’re told the place is closed and won’t open until 4. We’re too hungry to wait, so we say, thank you, and walk out.

We cross the road and find a novel place, Babylon Social, that looks quite busy. It’s located directly opposite Brixton and it seems to specialize in comfort food, which is what we were definitely in the mood for at that moment. To me, it looked more like a sports bar with several television sets blaring a football game and people screaming their appreciation of their favorite team winning a touchdown or whatever they’re supposed to do. A middle-aged man and what looked like his son, maybe, were sitting at the table adjacent to us.

A young waitress by the name of Clarissa waited on us. Since we were all ravenous, we decided to order some appetizers first like cauliflower bites and a chopped wedge salad for Elliot and Gene. Gene and I ordered an eggplant parmigiana pizza to share with the table. For my beverage of choice, I ordered a coffee.

For dessert, Elliot treated us all to ice cream delights at Kilwins Ice Cream up the block. I almost wanted to bring home some chocolate, but the prices were indeed not too sweet.

We did find a bakery along the way where I asked for four apple cider donuts. Don’t ask what I was charged for these sweet treats.

We said our goodbyes to Gene on Deer Park Avenue. He is going back to Provincetown before Yom Kippur and then he flies back to Florida on November 4. We said we might come out to the Sunshine State sometime in March to be with him.

And so it went!

And So It Goes

Today is Thursday, September 18, 2025. Yes, Elliot and I did get home yesterday from our trip to Copenhagen and Israel. In fact, we got back much earlier than expected: I think we entered the house around 12:20 p.m. and encountered our first piece of bad news: our one apartment elevator was out of order, so we had to schlep four pieces of luggage up four flights of stairs. The second piece of bad news was our living room television set just suddenly died. It’s a Sony and I couldn’t turn it on with two remotes. I’ve unplugged the set, rebooted it several times, replaced the batteries in the Verizon remote, and that still didn’t work. I even called our cat sitter, “Laura,” to ask if she turned on the set during the time we were absent, and she admitted she never did. I asked because maybe she experienced something if she had, but it’s now a moot point. I did call Verizon Fios today to find out that they can’t do anything. Either I call a repairman to come to the house or just buy a new set. My only other option is to call a tech person whose name is “Emanuel” who we used before to do some things on our Mac to have him come up to diagnose the situation. In the meantime, I’ll just have to bother Elliot while he’s sleeping in the bedroom to watch our LG set.

Anyway, the vacation was just incredible for the number of flights we took – six altogether – and the dissimilarity of the two countries we visited. Copenhagen was brimming with hygge ( a Danish word that describes “a cozy, contented mood evoked by comfort and conviviality.” The word is pronounced “hoo-gah,” and it roughly translates to “cosiness,” but it means so much more than that. It’s literally a lifestyle that is definitely absent here and not so evident in Israel because of the tense situation engendered almost two years ago with the assault on the country by Hamas on October 7, 2023. For the most part, our Israeli section of the trip was more restful than the first leg where we did more sightseeing in the Danish capital. We primarily stayed with Elliot’s cousins in Hod Hasharon. Even though we first stayed at the Orchard Hotel near the beach for two days before taking a Gett (the Israeli version of Uber) to our cousins’ house on Friday, September 12. Then we stayed with them until September 16 when we set our phone alarm to 3:45 a.m. to get to Ben Gurion Airport for an 8 a.m. flight to Copenhagen. We had a friend of our cousins take us in his taxi to the airport at 4:30. Fo one night, we stayed at a hotel by the airport where we had a 9 a.m. flight back to the States on a Delta flight. The Israeli flights were on El Al Israel Airline.

The Copenhagen stay was noted for the amount of walking we did in various neighborhoods. I entered – without Elliot – Christiansborg Palace one day and toured the vast structure by myself, only missing out on seeing the ruins since it was close to closing time. The highlight from that day of sightseeing was seeing Christiana which is unique in its setup: it’s a self-proclaimed “free town” neighborhood on the outskirts of Christianshavn, which is the most expensive area in Copenhagen. It’s known for its alternative lifestyle and community and it’s home to around 850 residents and various businesses, cafes, and cultural venues. Elliot and I were just too dumbfounded by its anachronistic milieu in that we couldn’t think of anything like this place existing in the United States or elsewhere. Even Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco is a thing of the past and it doesn’t even come close to this throwback to the 60s. I believe Haight-Ashbury was integrated into the greater part of San Francisco, but this neighborhood was definitely not. It was all unto itself. You really have to see it to believe it!

Another day we took a one-hour canal ride in which we saw the famous Little Mermaid statue sitting by itself by the water’s edge. Our tour guide proclaimed it the second most-famous disappointing attraction in Europe; the first was Manneken Pis (“little boy pissing”) in Brussels, Belgium. Which we have seen, by the way.

The true highlight of our Danish adventure was going to world-famous amusement park Tivoli Gardens at night. It is one of the oldest amusement parks that was opened way back in 1843. There are supposed to be 40 restaurants and cafes, more so than in all of Copenhagen.

In terms of rides, I was too faint hearted to go on a regular roller coaster, so I wimped out and rode a family-style roller coaster called The Little Dragon, rode bumper cars, and walked through a haunted house instead of riding in cars on a track. This haunted house required you to put your hands on a person’s shoulders in front of you and to walk through the various rooms of this allegedly haunted house that featured live actors. Since Elliot refused to go with me to this attraction, I was assigned to walk in with a family of three from Italy, as I recall, as my haunted house companions. The only live performer I could spot was one young lady who came out of nowhere to attempt to scare us with her sudden appearance. She really did not do the trick, in my opinion. In fact, I was more amused by the “ride” than anything else.

When we got to Israel, the mood, as I suggested, did change, though the atmosphere in Hod Hasharon where our cousins lived was pretty convivial. People managed to go about their business without exhibiting any apparent tenseness. Cafes were brimming with young people – and old – having a coffee or dessert. Restaurants were full. The first night we were in Tel Aviv at the Orchard Hotel, we managed to walk to Neve Tzedek, which is an artsy-fartsy section of the city, and have dinner at a place called Suzana. The food there was very delicious. It was here that we were greeted by about four or five feral cats who begged for food. And Elliot was the one who obliged at least one of them. Tel Aviv is noted for its abundance of cats, not Copenhagen.

Two memorable events from our trip to Israel stand out: the first being was hearing a siren go off at around 3:40 a.m. to announce that we had to go to a safe room in the house to await for instructions to go back outside (here we entered the hallway since the window in our “safe room” where we slept was not completely closed) with “Becca,” our hostess. We must have waited a good ten minutes or so before Becca got the go-ahead to go back inside. So that was nerve-wracking; I don’t think I slept much after that.

The second event occurred on Sunday when Elliot’s cousin, “Ruth,” drove us almost 90 minutes to the south to view memorials to the victims of October 7: one commemorating victims killed on a particular kibbutz and the other memorializing the tragic deaths of hundreds of music festival goers at the Nova Festival who were mowed down by Hamas terrorists. At one point, we were looking down at Gaza over a bluff and seeing smoke billowing out from down below. We certainly knew what that signified. Seeing those memorials had a profound effect on both of us. Of course, Ruth had a conscious wish of not making us forget the initial atrocities committed on October 7. That cannot be denied. I just wish that the response to this first act of barbarism was not met with far greater barbarism by the Israelis, but not all Israelis have agreed with Netanyahu’s strategy here and have taken to the streets to demonstrate against his methods. Our cousins admitted that they themselves have participated in several of these massive protests. As I admitted participating in three demonstrations against Il Trumpini right here in New York to them.

Anyway, the entire trip was filled with great food, great people, and great scenery. What’s there to complain about? Getting up massively early for two flights and not sleeping on the flight returning from Copenhagen. All I recall is that I viewed three films in the 8-hour flight back to New York. One of those was High Ground from 2025 that stars Charlie Weber, Henry Thomas, and the estimable Jon Voight as the title character’s former sheriff of a father. The plot concerns the arrest of a drifter (Henry Thomas) who, we later discover, is to be a star witness against a brutal drug cartel who is embodied in the character of James Oliver Wheatley, the violent drug head gunning for Thomas. Even though there was the typical shoot-em-ups and explosives exploding, that didn’t happen until the very end of the film, while there was more character development in the rugged sheriff played by Weber who is going through his own gates of hell in his former role as a Ranger who had to make some very awful decisions that resulted in several lives lost.

Another film I did see was Bad Shabbos, from 2024. It tells the story of David (Jon Bass) and his fiancee Meg (Meghan Leathers) who steel themselves for the meeting of the future in-laws (his) on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. David’s parents are played by David Paymer as Richard and Kyra Sedgwick as Ellen who are your typical Jewish parents who are trying very hard to accept Meg’s Christian roots. The other family members gathering for this meshuganah dinner include kvetchy older sister Abby (Milana Vayntrub), tetchy younger brother Adam (Theo Taplitz), and Abby’s boyfriend, Benjamin (Ashley Zukerman), a snide Wall Street type. So far, the vibe is amusing, observant, and light, until about 20 minutes in, an accidental death occurs inside the apartment, in which the tone of the film immediately shifts to one of zaniness, as the attendees of this “bad shabbas” dinner attempt to cover up the death for the benefit of Meg’s parents, Beth (Catherine Curtin) and father, John (John Bedford Lloyd). Throw into this chaotic mix the Black doorman, Jordan, played here with gusto, Cliff “Method Man” Smith who gets dragged into the plot to cover up the death of one of the participants. At one point, he even attends the dinner in a powder-blue sweater vest and yarmulke, standing in as an Ethiopian Jew to Meg’s dumbfounded parents.

The reason I missed writing my blog is that I crashed as early as 9 lat night to sleep about 12 hours, even though I woke up several times during the night. You see, Israel is seven hours ahead of New York, and I did not sleep very much on the flight back. But I’m back now. I don’t think tonight I’ll be able to stay awake as late as I usually do; that will take some time.

And so it went!

Enjoy the pictures from our fabulous trip, by the way.

Here is the rear view of The Little Mermaid as seen on our canal ride.

This is a room in Christiansborg Palace.

This is a massive hallway in the palace.

Another room in the palace.

The throne room in which the king and queen preside. Frederik X is now King of Denmark who acceded to the throne after the abdication of his mother, Queen Margrethe. He is married to Queen Mary, who was born in Australia. They have four children.

This is the entrance to Tivoli Gardens.

More of electrifying Tivoli Gardens at night.

This is the Danish Jewish Museum that I visited without Elliot.

This is the Menorah standing outside the museum.

This sign is in Christiana.

These signposts are also in Christiana.

Here is the memorial to those killed at the Nova Festival on October 7.

Here are more plaques honoring those who died at the festival.

Ruth took us to a memorial to the burned-out cars that were devastated in the attack on October 7.

Here is a terrorist vehicle that was destroyed in the assault.

Here is a hotel near our hotel in Tel Aviv.

Here is one of the cats who had no shame approaching our dinner table to ask for food at Suzana in Neve Tzedek.

And So It Goes

Today is Saturday, August 23, 2025. After boasting that he would patrol D.C. streets with his own version of the Gestapo, the cowardly president apparently changed his mind about doing this and this forms the crux of an MSNBC article by Steve Benen entitled “After boasting about plans to patrol D.C. streets, Trump fails to follow through.”

It was on Thursday when the repugnican raised eyebrows after he announced unexpectedly his intention to patrol the streets of Washington on a conservative radio program. The convicted felon told host Todd Starnes on Thursday afternoon, “I’m going to be going out tonight.”

Dump’s unanticipated announcement led this writer to speculate that Chump would carry zip-ties with him and wear a “Dukakis-like helmet.” But this never became reality after protesters mingled in the streets with pots, pans, and spoons in their backpacks and were prepared to bang them together to express their anger at Dump’s federal law enforcement surge in their city. Instead, Demented Don just returned to the White House.

Instead of following through on his strange boast, Dump spoke for about 10 minutes to a group of uniformed personnel outside a U.S. Park Police operations center in the city’s Anacostia neighborhood.

You would think the fool would have devoted his comments to the subject at hand, which was alleged crime in the streets, but the toddler in chief talked about his civil fraud case and a future White House ballroom, as well as artificial intelligence [that’s curious considering that the fool has no intelligence] and how much he hates wind power. These were definitely on-topic subjects for him to discuss in front of that crowd.

Anyway, those thinking unrealistically that Dump would follow through by going on patrol in the streets of the nation’s capital were certainly left disappointed by the failure of their law enforcer in chief to do exactly that.

Have you heard this new crazy opposition from the far right over a company’s new logo? The restaurant chain is Cracker Barrel and the idiots on the far right have been in a dither over the change of its branding. This ridiculous, latest culture war forms the basis of a current online MSNBC opinion entitled “Cracker Barrel’s new logo sparks a familiar MAGA outrage,” by Hannah Holland.

As you might also recall, the far right lost their shit over the new James Gunn Superman because it emphasized empathy, kindness, and civility over the forces of divisiveness and the fact that Superman is portrayed as an immigrant from another planet.

When the restaurant chain unveiled its new, streamlined logo, it sent the internet in a free fall. Now the Southern-themed restaurant found off highways across the country has unwittingly become the latest battleground in an increasingly unpredictable culture war over American identity – and who gets to define it.

“The previous logo, introduced in 1977, featured the outline of an older gentleman wearing overalls, sitting in a chair and leaning his elbow on the eponymous barrel. The new logo strips away ornamentation, leaving only the restaurant’s name in dark type inside a vaguely barrel-shaped blob.”

In the wake of the new logo reveal, it seems there is bipartisan and widespread outrage over the rebrand. Some on the left have even criticized the aesthetic change to the logo, but it’s MAGA enthusiasts and armchair pundits on the far right who have read this change as representing just another “woke” rebranding. “They are not lamenting a design failure; rather, they’ve cast Cracker Barrel’s rebrand as a capitulation to woke liberalism, an erasure of the so-called American ideology that Cracker Barrel apparently represents.”

Some background on Cracker Barrel: it was founded in 1969 and it is has a universal design in the store section before you walk into the restaurant part. There is something of a faux general store, replete with foodstuffs that we had as children and even clothing, as well as music CDs, most of which reflect the brand’s embrace of Christian gospel and country music. “Cracker Barrel’s entire ethos is early-1900s nostalgia, steeped in Southern Americana. It is a relic of a bygone era in both origin story and brand aesthetic.” That is why Elliot and I are drawn to eating at one of these restaurants when we’re on the road. I always enjoy going through the general store for the whiff of nostalgia in the items being offered for sale. I also have purchased music CDs when we had the old Nissan Altima. These were primarily country music CDs, even though I’m not too fond of the genre. Its prices are quite reasonable and that’s why it attracts Americans of all stripes to its doors.

This is not the first time the chain has been the subject of far right ire over the past few years. In 2022, almost three years to the day, the chain sparked outrage after adding a breakfast sandwich with plant-based sausage to its morning menu. Then in June the following year, Cracker Barrel incensed half of the internet again after posting in support of Pride month and debuting rainbow-colored rocking chairs. Yes, outside their stores, you will see a row of rocking chairs on display and even checker boards for those who are waiting for a table. Of course, for this terrible transgression, the chain was derided for “falling” to the “woke mob.”

In conclusion, Holland sees Cracker Barrel’s rebranding not as a woke conspiracy but only as a rebrand, with no interior motive to pull the wool over the idiots on the far right who see conspiracies in almost everything.

Have a great Sunday, everyone.

And so it went!

Here is a picture of our Atticus taken last night after I finished typing my blog. He almost looks as if he is daring me to take a picture of him in this delectable pose.

I think these are the same photos, so just enjoy them.

And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, August 17, 2025. Today Elliot and I ventured into Manhattan – even though I was a little apprehensive about riding the subway since my Friday night debacle on the E – for a day of culture by visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on 82nd Street and 5th Avenue. Elliot particularly wanted to see an exhibit on chinoiserie that was closing today, while I was drawn to an exhibit on Black dandyism called Superfine: Tailoring Black Style, which is actually running until October 26. I was also intrigued by another exhibit called Casa Susanna which chronicles a community of cross-dressers who met regularly in New York City and the Catskill Mountains in the 1960s and onward. This exhibit runs through January 25, 2026, so you have time to see it.

Earlier, I went out for coffee at Pink Forest before leaving Forest Hills at around 11:15. To get into Upper Manhattan, we took the R train instead of the E and got off at 59th Street to transfer to the 6 where she got off at 86th Street. Before going to the museum, we had brunch at a new place on 83rd Street and 2nd Avenue called the Penrose Bar. The meal I had certainly tickled my palate since I had lemon ricotta pancakes that were so very tasty. Even the coffee was quite robust.

After brunch, we walked up to 5th Avenue and to the Met. I looked at my watch when we finally paid our guest rate (we donated each $10 instead of paying the suggested $30) and thus entered the hallowed halls of this world-famous institution. We asked someone at the information desk to guide us to the chinoiserie exhibit and we actually found the floor and the gallery it was located in without too much ado. The exhibit on the ground floor is specifically titled Monstrous Beauty: A Feminist Revision of Chinoiserie. The liner notes on it say the exhibit “radically imagines the story of European porcelain through a feminist lens.” So when porcelain arrived in early modern Europe from China, it led to the rise of chinoiserie, “a decorative style that encompassed Europe’s fantasies of the East and fixations on the exotic, along with new ideas about women, sexuality, and race.”

The exhibit supposedly features at least 200 historical and contemporary works spanning from 16th-century Europe to contemporary installations by Asian and Asian-American women artists.

For my book, the second exhibit we visited on the second floor, the one on Black dandyism, had the most crowds and was the best exhibition I’ve seen in a long time. In fact, I hope to return to it at least once more before it leaves. According to its liner notes, the exhibit “explores the importance of style to the formation of Black identities in the Atlantic diaspora, particularly in the United States and Europe.” Here there was an abundance of memorabilia such as photographs, paintings, garments and accessories, decorative arts, and even videos to help interpret the concept of dandyism as both an aesthetic and a strategy that allowed for new social and political possibilities. The exhibit is organized into 12 sections, which range over several rooms of stuff. I’m sure I didn’t cover all 12 sections since Elliot finished viewing it before I and I didn’t want to keep him waiting.

We finally left the Met at 4:40 p.m., just 20 minutes before actual closing time. I was ready for another cup of coffee so we stopped at a Joe & the Juice on Lexington Avenue for hot coffee and banana bread for me. Elliot just read a copy of The Wall Street Journal that was left by a departing customer.

Now we walked down to 77th Street to get the 6 downtown to 51st Street where we waited for the E to take us back to Forest Hills. This time there were no delays getting home.

In the meantime, the toddler in chief just finished his much-ballyhooed summit with war criminal Vladimir Putin in Alaska over the weekend that ended in what someone has called a “nothing burger.” An online article for MediaITE reports on this fucking unsuccessful meeting with the Russian aggressor entitled “Trump’s Red Carpet for Putin Ends in a Faceplant,” by Colby Hall.

Here this demagogue promised he would end the war in Ukraine – but so far he glaringly hasn’t in the long eight months he’s been in office. The article states, “Instead, he delivered a red carpet for Vladimir Putin – and little else.”

The much-hyped Alaska ‘peace summit’ ended not with a triumph but with a whimper.” Dump had to embarrassingly admit that “we didn’t get there,” which is a horrible admission of truth for this inveterate liar.

Fox “News” itself had to admit that Putin steamrolled over the fat golfer. They couldn’t put their imitable spin on this worthless meeting. Senior White House correspondent Jacqui Heinrich bluntly reported that Chump “got steamrolled by Putin” on Fox News.

Not that I saw a whit of this disgraceful display of fawning before Putin by Dump who was seen clapping enthusiastically for the Russian president as if he were a rock star and not a brutal murderer of women, children, and civilians in the Ukrainian war.

Here the assessment of what Putin got from this meeting on U.S. soil is brutal: “For Putin, the payoff was obvious. He stood shoulder to shoulder with an American president, was celebrated on U.S. soil, and gave nothing in return. For Trump, the cost is harder to quantify but potentially devastating. He has painted himself in a corner with his ‘peace on day one’ promise. Anything short of an actual cessation of hostilities looks like failure. And failure, dressed up with pomp and applause, is still failure.”

The world now saw a U.S. president who was outmaneuvered, outtalked, and definitely out of his depth. “Allies will wonder if America’s resolve is fading; adversaries will take note of how easily Putin extracted a victory.”

All in all, Friday was an enormously embarrassing day for America and it was all due to the buffoonish Demented Don. Thus the war drags on and Putin smirks. For his superfluous part, Dump is left clapping on the red carpet for a man who just walked all over him.

Do try to have a good week.

And so it went!

Here is one item in the chinoiserie exhibit.

Another remarkable piece in this exhibit.

Imagine having that in your possession. And someone certainly did!

This piece was situated outside in an area with other items.

These pieces reflect the “monstrous” nature of chinoiserie.

This is a very colorful, decorative vase depicting Chinese characters.

We are now in the Black dandyism exhibit which I enjoyed the most.

This is more of a contemporary look that is on display at this exhibit.

Not sure of the designers whose fare is on display here, but it’s still striking nevertheless.

These were actual letters written by celebrated author, historian, sociologist, and political activist W. E. B. Du Bois to Brooks Brothers in 1920.

Another striking outfit in this exhibit.

Here are some portraits of Black “dandies.”

This is from the last exhibit we saw: Casa Susanna. This is a copy of Transvestia, a magazine for cross-dressers from the 1960s.

This page is from the 1962 copy of Transvestia.

This is a picture of one of the cross-dressers who sought refuge in the resorts established by Susanna Valenti and her wife, Marie Tornell, in the Catskill Mountains. All of these snapshots were rediscovered at a Manhattan flea market in 2004 and they form the basis of this fascinating exhibit.

Another cover from this ground-breaking magazine.

Here is an open view of the “lego” building from Fifth Avenue.

And So It Goes

Today is August 13, 2025. I haven’t written my blog for a while, with my last one on Wednesday, August 6, 2025, before we jetted to Los Angeles on Thursday, August 7. We did come home last night, but it was close to 12 midnight and I sure was not going to write this blog when we were traveling over 14 hours for some strange reason during the whole day. We started off around 8:30 when we left our hotel to drive to LAX to drop off our rented red Dodge Charger (the first time I was ever in one, I believe). This took unceremoniously long to get to the airport, but we had a 12:15 reservation, so it didn’t matter what time we got to the airport. We still had that much time to check in and walk to our gate which, for the very first time, was not too far away from airport security. So that was a relief!

All in all, the several days we spent in Los Angeles and its environs were very jam packed with things to do. We even got to celebrate our anniversary on Sunday, August 10, after going to our friends’ gala anniversary dinner on Saturday, August 9. We also got to see our friends in a more intimate setting Friday night, also on Ventura Boulevard, in a less glitzy place called Bacari with fewer people. I now think that first dinner was arranged for all of the guests who traveled from afar to get to the main celebration on Sunday. Thus there were only about 10 of us. I think Elliot was speaking to a couple who flew in from Georgia. The main attraction, so to speak, was quite the chic and elegant affair: it was held at a restaurant on Ventura Boulevard called Casalena. There were cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, and then a formal sit-down dinner, replete with a DJ, and, even, dancing. Plates of food were delivered to the tables after speeches were given to honor the coupler celebrating 50 years of married bliss. I was a little surprised that Elliot didn’t stand up to deliver one himself, but he didn’t. I had my chance this time to get up to dance, and boy, did I take it. I ended up dancing with a single older guest who I never learned how she knew the couple. I just shimmied my way up on the floor for upwards of two hours or so.

The most exasperating thing I hated about this trip was the constant driving we did. You don’t walk in California; you drive if you can afford it. So the minute we rented our car on Thursday night, we drove everywhere. Even though we were on Melrose Avenue, we did resort to walking but only locally. You rarely see people walking the streets in Los Angeles. Though I didn’t drive, I considered myself the navigator. At first, we couldn’t hook up the bluetooth in the car with my phone; we had to ask a friend, “Albert,” who we saw Thursday night at Canter’s, a kosher-style deli located on North Fairfax Avenue. We actually went to this fading symbol of the Old Los Angeles three times. Twice for dinner and once for lunch.

Actually, it was I who hooked up my phone to the car’s system since after Albert supposedly installed it Thursday night, it stopped working on Friday. I touched some buttons here and there, and voila, it worked the entire time we used the car. So I didn’t have to resort to giving verbal instructions on route directions; that was delivered by a very proper English woman voicing directions from Google Maps. It was great.

On Monday, we went to the new Academy Museum of Motion Pictures not far from our hotel. It’s on Wilshire Boulevard. I bought two senior tickets in New York and scheduled a 1 p.m. visit about two weeks ago. Parking was not easy there; we originally looked for parking on the street, but that was impossible, so I got out of the car and asked a security guard outside the entrance to the museum where we could park, and he mentioned to go across the street to the Petersen Automotive Museum, and to the parking garage there, so that’s where we parked. The two museums share the facility, so there was no problem parking there.

Our hotel was called the Palihotel and was located on Melrose Avenue. It was not far from the Improv, a comedy club, where we saw a revue on our anniversary. I booked the ticket as an impromptu gesture – just a day or two before the show itself and was able to get two tickets to the 9:15 show. The headliner was comic Will Burkart whose name I at least knew. The comedian going on earlier was someone I never heard of. Burkart’s Wikipedia page says he was born and raised in the San Francisco Bay area, and he’s only 32 years of age.

We had no complaints about the hotel – only that the parking garage needed a security code to get in and you had to call the front desk for someone to open the yawning doors of the gate. One time no one answered and I had to get out of the car to run up to the front desk to seek out the late-time clerk to open the gate. Also, the creaky elevator broke down on Sunday and was not operable until past our check-out. Thank God our room was on the second floor, so that didn’t involve too much walking up and down the stairs, except for check-out which was on Tuesday, August 12, and that did involve us taking both of our suitcases down two flights of stairs. That wasn’t so good! Oh, the shower was also quite unusual: every time you took a shower, the water didn’t drain out in enough time, so you had a tub almost filled to the brim. I called the front desk to announce my displeasure over this and a maintenance person was called up to do something about it. The only thing he did was remove the stopper. Even after this so-called “repair,” the water still almost crested to the top, but at least, the water drained much faster after this. Also, the air conditioning was a little too high one night, so I had to report this the next day too. I just changed my mind here; we will not stay at this hotel in the near future anytime soon. Even the area surrounding the hotel was a little grungy.

One good thing about this trip was that there was a news blackout of sorts for the duration of our time in sunny Los Angeles. The TV remote was the darndest thing; here I should have complained about it too, but I didn’t. I couldn’t get live TV on, so I abandoned that idea to find something else on other venues. We were able to watch some old movies on something called Samsung TV. But no news!

The worst thing about the trip was the commute to Newark Airport which took almost two hours one way. But that was my choice: I decided to trade in United miles for a practically free trip to LA which required that we needed to travel out of Newark Airport. The outgoing trip wasn’t that bad, even though our flight was delayed for over two hours because of a glitch in United Airlines’ own systems the day before. We had a 2:10 p.m. flight out which was delayed until about 4:32 now. But we didn’t know this; we first got an alert about this at 10:46 a.m. We were already on our way to the airport.

The return flight was a real doozy. There we had that 12:15 flight which this time did leave the tarmac basically on time. It was getting into New Jersey around 8:40 which now required a 2-hour commute home. Where we had to deplane which took more than a half hour to get off, then find where the Air Train is, board that for three stops to Penn Station, then find where the subway is located. At least we didn’t have to wait a long time for the E. I wanted to have something to eat at Penn Station since nothing was offered to us on this flight except for beverages and snacks. I settled for an Auntie Anne’s pretzel costing about $8.

Getting in close to 12, our trip was finally over! What made it all worth the while was seeing Atticus coming out of the bedroom to greet me a little warily. However, he was sitting on my right leg soon thereafter as I began watching the programs I taped.

And so it went!

I believe this is a gown that Barbra Streisand wore in one of her films. This is from the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures. The dress is from Funny Lady, I just recalled.

This is one of the big exhibits at the museum: the worlds of Sarah Greenwood and Katie Spencer who are veteran production designers who have worked on many films as diverse as Anna Karenina to Barbie, last summer’s major blockbuster hit.

This is from that exhibit honoring Sarah Greenwood and Katie Spencer.

This is a mockup of Barbie’s pink Cadillac.

This is a costume worn by that Brazilian spitfire, Carmen Miranda.

Here’s my Oscar!

This is from Beauty and the Beast, another film that Greenwood and Spencer worked on.

This peephole made up of books is found in The Last Bookstore, Downtown Los Angeles’ famous bookstore that Elliot and I always visit when we go there.

This leaning tower of books is also located in The Last Bookstore.

Don’t touch those books! Also found in The Last Bookstore which has been voted “the most photographed bookstore in the world.” And for a very good reason!

Wanna a book?

Another much-photographed area in The Last Bookstore.


And So It Goes

Today is Sunday, August 3, 2025. Today Elliot and I spent a day walking through nature’s bounty at the Bronx Botanical Garden, located at 2900 Southern Boulevard. We took the subway instead of driving there and having to worry about parking the car. We went there at the invitation of our Amherst friends “Laura” and “Richard” who were coming in to spend some time with Laura’s cousin, “Albert,” who hails from New Jersey. Albert is disabled and he had his attendant “Kelly” and his wife “Bette” drive him to the Garden. The exhibit we were all interested in seeing was Van Gogh’s Flowers that captures the many multifaceted flowers that constituted some of the artist’s most indelible paintings.

We were all supposed to have met by 12, so we set the alarm for 8:45 a.m. and naturally got up before the alarm. Today marked the second day that the tenants in the building had issues with water pressure due to some mechanical malfunction in the pumps or whatever is responsible for delivering the right measure of pressure through the pipes. Luckily, we still had some water and I was able to take an attenuated shower. We decided to have breakfast outside, so that we could use the bathroom instead of relying on the toilet in the apartment to not do its intended job. And here I just watched Netflix’s special on the doomed 2013 Carnival cruise where toilets failed to flush altogether and passengers had to resort to defecating in biohazard bags. Yuck! I know, too much information, too much information!

Anyway, we walked to Pink Forest on Austin Street and had something (I had a ham and cheese omelet while Elliot had a vegetable sandwich) to tide us over until lunch at the Garden.

We then walked over to the subway to wait for the E to take us to 7th Avenue, where we then transferred to the uptown D train and got off at Bedford Park Boulevard. The train ride took all of an hour before we came to our stop. As we exited the station, I looked for signs pointing to the Garden and found a small sign saying to exit the station to the left. When we got outside, I thought we were walking in the correct direction until I stopped a young girl lost in listening to music on headphones who couldn’t answer where the Garden. It was then that a woman overhearing my question stuck her head out of a second-floor window and pointed us in the right direction. That is who we need to guide us in the right direction: a woman in an apartment building listening to us from a second-story window. I find it very New York-ish. Only in New York then!

We made a left and here were clearly posted signs telling us we were walking in the right direction and that our destination was just eight blocks ahead. We must have arrived close to 12 and I looked for Laura and Richard at the front of the Garden, but they weren’t there. So I called her and she said she was at the other entrance to the Garden and that we needed to walk there after buying our tickets. We were at the Mosholu Parkway entrance, not at the Southern Boulevard entrance, so we made our way through the park, past the reflecting pool, and to the other entrance, where we now saw Laura and Richard.

We hugged and embraced and then waited for Laura’s cousin to arrive. We didn’t have to wait long, as Laura soon recognized her cousin’s car. Kelly was waving out of the car so we all walked to it and introduced ourselves to Albert and the others.

In all, I think we stayed at the site for about 3-and-a-half hours, if you include lunch at the Pine Tree Cafe. We were a little disappointed to discover our admission ticket did not give us access to the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory in which everything was inside. There were so many acres and acres of plants and flowers that we could only see that much, given how warm it was in the sun. Of course, I would forget to use sunscreen on my skin today.

There was a tram running through the Garden, but we discovered that it wasn’t wheelchair accessible, so we had to eschew taking it. Therefore, we just used our feet to get around and I feel we barely scratched the surface of seeing mostly everything in the Garden. Maybe this means that we can return to the site in the fall or early spring when it’s not so hot.

One highlight of our visit today was the opportunity to take watercolors and a palette and to draw a picture of nature on a small piece of paper. This was provided in some pavilion near a lake with turtles swimming in it. Laura took the plunge, so to speak, while Elliot and I were picture shy. Sadly, I have no talent in that area and have always known it.

When it was time to call it a day, we walked Kelly, Bette, and Albert to their car in the lot, saying goodbye. We then walked to Laura and Richard’s car at another locus point in the vast parking lot, whereupon Laura gave us a little bag sporting maple syrup and Laura’s own special brand of chocolate cookies. I can’t wait to sample them later or tomorrow. They also drove us to the nearest subway stop, so we didn’t have to walk those eight blocks back to the D. We were very grateful for that.

Now we just took the subway back to 7th Avenue and then transferred to the E once more. In that time (the trip back just consumed a little over 65 minutes or so), I was able to finish Edmund White’s Hotel de Dream, just one of White’s many novels he wrote over five decades.

I enjoyed this reimagining of American literary phenomenon Stephen Crane’s last days wasting away at the young age of twenty-eight from tuberculosis. The novel deals with his relationship with his wife Cora and presents a novel within a novel, as Crane feverishly dictates the story of a married banker named Theodore Koch who falls in love with a young male prostitute named Elliott. Crane called this story The Painted Boy after the mascara the 16-year-old wears to attract male customers. Even though Crane was patently heterosexual, it is pointed out that his early days as a journalist sensitized him to the plight of the poor, and it was quite possible that he did meet such a lad in his days wandering the lower bowels of Manhattan. And it is possible that Crane originally planned the book as a companion piece to Maggie, Girl of the Streets which is obviously about a female prostitute.

Anyway, it’s getting late here, so now I can move on to another book, this time one of nonfiction. This one is called Dark Carnivals: Modern Horror and the Origins of Modern Empire. I saw this book at this new Kim’s Video store in Brooklyn, and I just ordered it on Amazon two days ago, and it just arrived today.

Oh, good news: our water pressure issue was resolved by the time we got back from our visit to the Garden. Even though we met a neighbor by CVS on Queens Boulevard as we got out of the station who informed us that things were still the same, so maybe it got repaired just about the time we returned to the apartment after seeing her. Who knows? All I know is that I won’t have to use the bathroom at the Austin House Diner tomorrow. Boy, is that a relief!

Have a good week, everyone.

And so it went!

Here is the sign announcing the exhibit that we saw today.

Here is a floral palette. Anyone care to draw?

Here is a field of yellow.

You read the sign stating what these flowers are.

This I can read as Japanese maple.

This is that reflecting pool I mentioned earlier.

This is a cool Bedford Park Presbyterian Church that we passed on the way to the Garden.